n I could now at her. "I have set my life to
prove this thing. When I came here to this America--out of pique, out of
a love of adventure, out of sheer daring and exultation in
imposture--_then_ I saw why I was born, for what purpose! It was to do
such work as I might to prove the theory of my father, and to justify
the life of my mother. For that thing I was born. For that thing I have
been damned on this earth; I may be damned in the life to come, unless I
can make some great atonement. For these I suffer and shall always
suffer. But what of that? There must always be a sacrifice."

The unspeakable tragedy of her voice cut to my soul. "But listen!" I
broke out. "You are young. You are free. All the world is before you.
You can have anything you like--"

"Ah, do not talk to me of that," she exclaimed imperiously. "Do not
tempt me to attempt the deceit of myself! I made myself as I am, long
ago. I did not love. I did not know it. As to marriage, I did not need
it. I had abundant means without. I was in the upper ranks of society. I
was there; I was classified; I lived with them. But always I had my
purposes, my plans. For them I paid, paid, paid, as a woman must,
with--what a woman has.

"But now, I am far ahead of my story. Let me bring it on. I went to
Paris. I have sown some seeds of venom, some seeds of revolution, in one
place or another in Europe in my time. Ah, it works; it will go! Here
and there I have cost a human life. Here and there work was to be done
which I disliked; but I did it. Misguided, uncared for, mishandled as I
had been--well, as I said, I went to Paris.

"Ah, sir, will you not, too, leave the room, and let me tell on this
story to myself, to my own soul? It is fitter for my confessor than for
you."

"Let me, then, _be_ your confessor!" said I. "Forget! Forget! You have
not been this which you say. Do I not know?"

"No, you do not know. Well, let be. Let me go on! I say I went to Paris.
I was close to the throne of France. That little Duke of Orleans, son of
Louis Philippe, was a puppet in my hands. Oh, I do not doubt I did
mischief in that court, or at least if I failed it was through no lack
of effort! I was called there 'America Vespucci.' They thought me
Italian! At last they came to know who I was. They dared not make open
rupture in the face of the courts of Europe. Certain of their high
officials came to me and my young Duke of Orleans. They asked me to
leave Paris. They did not com